


Chrysanthemum

by marvel_and_mischief



Series: Floriography Series [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, a man gets turned upside down, mention of a wound but not detailed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_and_mischief/pseuds/marvel_and_mischief
Summary: Chrysanthemum:you're a wonderful friend
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: Floriography Series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153310
Kudos: 20





	Chrysanthemum

The cantina you worked in was probably the only one on the planet that remained upstanding, only inviting the most respectable of individuals. From day one, your boss had stressed the importance of keeping people happy and safe in a galaxy that was far from it. That doesn’t mean you didn’t get the odd suspicious traveller coming in, but as long as they didn’t cause trouble or didn’t make anyone feel uncomfortable, they were more than welcome. 

So when a Mandalorian walked in one day with a small, green creature in his arms you did a double take, sharing a glance with your fellow bartender who gave a shrug and quickly busied herself with clearing a table. The patrons in the cantina were mostly human and had paused in their conversations to scrutinise the new arrivals, you just hoped none of them would make a scene.

“Welcome,” you put on your best smile and offered them a nervous wave, “can I be of assistance?”

The Mandalorian leaned a hip against the bar whilst his small friend happily squealed in your direction.

“Do you have anything he can eat?” he said, voice monotone and to the point as he set the creature on top of the bar. You had never seen anything like him, but he looked friendly enough and you bravely reached out to place your finger in his tiny hand. You saw the Mandalorian stiffen up but he made no move to stop you.

“We have fresh scrimpi, and some jerky if you’re only looking for a snack, or cook made a chowder this morning that I can heat up?”

“Cold chowder will be fine,” the Mandalorian perched himself on a stool and waited whilst you went into the kitchen to grab a bowl.

“What’s he like?” You jumped in surprise as your friend, Lyra, scurried into the kitchen unbeknownst to you.

“You should be out there tending to the patrons,” you scolded her, pouring a ladle of chowder into a bowl.

“I’ve never seen a real Mandalorian before! My father used to tell me stories of Mandalore and their fearsome warriors,” Lyra exclaimed excitedly.

“He doesn’t seem fearsome,” you shrugged, trying to move passed your friend who refused to let you by, “but maybe if he doesn’t get his food he will be.” 

Lyra raised an amused eyebrow, not taking your threat to heart but stepped aside anyway.

“Can’t I take him his food?” she asked hopefully, a pleading, child-like look in her eyes.

“No, do the rounds, make sure anyone seated at a table is a paying patron,” you ordered over your shoulder as you exited the kitchen. Lyra was positively giddy at the thought of being in the same building as a Mandalorian, if you’d allowed her to serve she probably would have done something embarrassing like tripping over her own feet and spilling food in the Mandalorian’s lap. 

When you re-entered the cantina the Mandalorian and his green friend were already sitting at a vacant table near the bar. Placing the bowl in front of the smaller of the two you smiled at the odd pair.

“Can I get you anything? A drink?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” the Mandalorian replied kindly. You were impressed by his manners, this huge, intimidating, armored man was a fierce sight to behold, but he had been nothing but polite and patient with you. 

“Does he have a name?” you asked, gesturing to the creature who was slurping from the bowl, his tiny hands precariously balancing the too large bowl. 

“Grogu,” the Mandalorian sounded unsure with his response, unsure of the name or unsure of telling you, you couldn’t tell. 

“Grogu,” he looked up at his name being called, long ears twisting to listen to you, wide eyes curious like any other child, “have you and Grogu travelled far?”

“A few… parsecs,” the Mandalorian sounded cautious once again, giving away little information. You couldn’t blame him, from the little you knew of Mandalorians, their beskar was probably worth more than what you earned in a year, you supposed it was second nature for a man like him to be careful who he spoke to. 

“Do you have somewhere to stay?”

The shiny helmet tilted down to Grogu who had quickly finished his chowder and was distractedly playing with an insect on the table.

“I only ask because we have a room free upstairs. I could ensure nobody bothers you, so you’ll have complete privacy,” you spoke softly, picking up the empty bowl ready to take away.

“That would be appreciated. My ship is being repaired,” he explained and you grinned, turning away from the table only to hear Lyra shouting from across the room.

The Mandalorian turned swiftly at the commotion, hand automatically going to the blaster at his hip, prepared for a fight if there was one. You waved a hand in the air, gesturing to him that you would handle it and hurried over to your friend.

“Is something the matter?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at Lyra who subtly shook her head.

“She thinks I haven’t paid, but I have!” The man standing at the table next to Lyra wasn’t tall in height or broad in stature, yet he had a bellowing voice that had you internally cringing. It was screechy, and he stomped his foot in a huff that would have made you laugh if you were an observer instead of the mediator. 

“Well, that’s easy to clear up. Everyone who steps through the door to the cantina is automatically scanned and entered into our datapads anonymously, and when you swipe your credit or hand over local currency that too is logged.”

“Y-you can’t do that!” he stuttered, wringing his hands nervously now he knew he was caught.

“It’s all part of upholding a respectable establishment,” your smile was sickly sweet but not cruel. You had the upper hand and you both knew it. “Shall I get my datapad?”

But before you had the chance to stop him, the man had slipped between you and Lyra and was heading straight towards the exit. You were too slow to get a good grip on him and Lyra was too shocked to make any movement at all. 

But there was no need to worry because quick as lightning the Mandalorian had stepped in the path of the thief, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and was hoisting him up in the air for all to see.

“P-put me down! Let- let me go!”

“Pay them, or I will personally see to it that you never walk again.”

The cantina was deadly silent, everybody holding their breaths in awe of the strength of the Mandalorian. Some were in fear of making a noise lest his anger turned on them, others were hoping he would carry through on his threat to see a good show. You just hoped none of this got back to your boss or your job would be on the line. 

When the thief was too scared to say anything, the Mandalorian began shaking him up and down until coins started spilling out of his pockets.

“Is that enough?” It took you a second to realise the Mandalorian was talking to you. You did a quick count of the value of the coins and gave a short, sharp nod.

The man went crashing to the floor after the Mandalorian let him go in mid air, and he scurried out of the cantina as fast as his legs could carry him. 

“Clean up the table and take your break, Lyra,” you said gently, seeing the shock in her eyes you knew she’d need a drink before carrying on with her shift. 

The Mandalorian knelt down to the floor, picked up the coins and handed them to you.

“Let me know if he comes back. I don’t think he will,” the Mandalorian chuckled, it was short and sweet but definitely real. 

“I’ll show you to your room.”

-

Word travelled fast when nothing exciting ever happened in the city you lived in. Local kids hung around on the street outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the shiny new guy in the area, adults kept their distance not wanting to attract unwanted attention from the fearsome Mandalorian and patrons bugged you with too many questions you couldn’t answer. _Didn’t want_ to answer. 

You had gotten to know Grogu and his guardian, albeit briefly, but long enough to know they could be trusted, they were good and kind and friendly to you and you weren’t going to betray the trust they’d placed in you when the Mandalorian decided to take you up on the offer of staying the night.

But with the good always came the bad, and not everybody could be trusted. Somehow, someone had given away the Mandalorian’s location and now their safety was compromised. And so was yours. 

It was midday when you heard the first lot of blaster fire from your place behind the bar. You hadn’t seen your new friends since you left them in their room the evening before, yet you guessed it had something to do with them.

The patrons in the cantina scrambled over each other to get to the exit but your main concern was Lyra. She was struggling to get through the crowd on the other side of the cantina, looking disorientated as she tried to steady herself against a table. You shouted her name to get her attention and pointed to a gap in the crowd down the side of the room. She followed your gaze and made her way towards you.

“Get to the kitchen, I’ll follow you when I know everybody has gone,” you ordered, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly whilst pushing her in the direction of the door. Once she was gone you peaked over the top of the bar to see the cantina empty. The blaster fire outside began again, grunts of pain reaching your ears but you put it to the back of your mind. There was no use worrying about strangers.

You crawled across the floor to the door that led to the kitchens and pulled down the handle. The door wouldn’t budge. You pressed your shoulder against it and thrust your body as hard as you could but still it didn’t move. You hissed in frustration. You had no choice but to take cover back behind the bar.

You crawled back to where you started, leaning heavily against the shelves under the bar when you heard it. Footsteps. _Thud. Thud. Thud._ Coming to a stop somewhere on the other side of the bar. Heavy footsteps that could only mean whoever was in the cantina with you was big, heavy built, definitely not a match for you even if you had a weapon on hand.

Scanning your surroundings gave you little hope, spying bottles of alcohol that would be too heavy to lift, dirty bowls that hadn’t made it to the kitchen yet and wouldn’t be much use as weapons, and a squirty plasto bottle with sterilising liquid inside that would pack a punch if it got into someone’s eyes. 

You slowly and silently reached for the bottle and held it in both hands against your chest, fingers on the trigger and nozzle pointing outwards. Carefully you pulled yourself into a crouching position, turning around so you would be facing the stranger and before you could talk yourself out of it you popped up from behind the bar, held the bottle out in front of you and continuously squirted. 

Your eyes were partially closed when you attacked so it took you a second to realise that no one was reacting to your assault, for very good reason. You weren’t squirting cleaning fluid at some low life criminal but at the beskar heavy helmet of the Mandalorian. 

You lifted your fingers off the trigger and slowly lowered your arms. You were mortified at what you’d done and that was clearly written on your face, a deep sigh leaving your lips as you awaited his reaction.

Which was to chuckle. He was _laughing_ at you, quietly, almost to himself, muffled by the helmet. 

“What exactly was your plan, _burc’ya_?”

You glanced to the bottle still in your hand and gave a tiny shrug, throwing it uselessly onto the floor. 

“Make a run for it whilst their eyes were bleeding out?” It came out as a question because if you were being honest, you hadn’t thought that far ahead, the adrenaline running through your body overtaking any common sense you had. 

“It may have worked,” he mused. He looked down to his foot, getting distracted by something you couldn’t see from your place behind the bar. When he knelt down you realised in the madness of the situation you had forgotten about Grogu who had toddled into the cantina behind his guardian. 

It was when the Mandalorian stood up, Grogu settled into one arm, that you noticed blood in the crook of his elbow, the fabric ripped and exposing a nasty wound. You swallowed the lump in your throat at not only the thought of him being hurt, but also having to tell the man who never showed a sliver of skin that he was vulnerable in front of you. 

“Err, you’re hurt,” you tentatively motioned to his arm. You heard him suck in a breath as he saw what you were looking at, his whole body going rigid and if you had been a stranger entering the cantina you’d think he was nothing but a statue with how still he became. 

You walked to the other end of the bar where the medical supplies lay and picked up a metal box to rest on the top. It was an unopened medikit, kept in case of emergencies but never used seeing as you never _usually_ had trouble come to this part of the planet.

You picked up a bacta patch and went back over to your friend who was still awkwardly standing there. You thought the best thing you could do was act like everything was normal, that nothing was wrong, that his creed wasn’t being broken and you weren’t looking at his skin. And if he really wasn’t comfortable you would let him stop you.

Ripping open the packaging you pulled out the bacta patch and leaned over the bartop slowly, allowing him time to stop you but he didn’t. You placed the patch inside the gap in his shirt and pressed it over the wound, making sure the edges were stuck to his skin.

Grogu watched every move you made, as though ensuring his guardian was safe in your hands, letting out a tiny squeal of happiness when you finished. You grinned at the strange creature and stroked the tiny hairs atop his head and it was only then you felt the Mandalorian relax. Only slightly, his shoulders lowered from where they were tensed up and where he held Grogu against his chest plate he wriggled his fingers out of their rigidness. It was enough to say ‘I trust you’ but not enough to completely let his guard down. It made you smile and you hoped underneath his helmet he was smiling too.

-

You were cleaning down the tables before you opened up for the morning patrons when you felt his presence behind you. You spun around and grinned at the sight of the Mandalorian, Grogu nestled in the crook of his good elbow.

“How’s the wound?” you asked, it hadn’t been a deep wound but it was big enough to warrant your worry.

“Fully healed. Thank you for helping me,” he replied sincerely, “my ship is fixed so I’ll be leaving now.”

You were aware of your heart dropping in disappointment at his admission. Apart from Lyra you didn’t have many friends, and you had enjoyed the Mandalorian’s company the past two days, his sense of humor was on the same dry, wavelength as yours and his genuine kindness towards you was refreshingly welcome. 

“Will you come back one day?” you asked hopefully, expecting him to say ‘no’.

“You’d want to see me again?” he questioned, confusion marring his voice. 

“I don’t have many friends, and I like Grogu,” your smile was cheeky when you stepped closer to the two of them, reaching out to let Grogu grip onto your finger, just as you’d done the first time you’d met.

“I’m certain I will need to pass through here again someday,” the Mandalorian shifted his weight, careful not to pull Grogu away from you until you were ready. 

“Stay safe, okay?” You looked up into the visor of his helmet, hoping you were staring into his eyes as you pleaded with him.

“I will,” he promised.

You gave a squeeze to Grogu’s tiny hand and stepped back, giving them permission to leave. The Mandalorian nodded, a thank you and a farewell rolled into one, and you waved them goodbye, hoping and preying to see them again.


End file.
